


Make a supersonic man out of you

by maniasquared



Series: Stucky One-Shots and Drabbles [18]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Alternate Universe - Theatre, Angry Steve Rogers, Annoyed Sam Wilson, Arguing, Boys Kissing, Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV) References, Dirty Jokes, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Dramatic Tony Stark, Enemies to Lovers, First Dates, Gen, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Multi, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Students, Teacher Bruce Banner, Theatre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 10:27:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18939085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maniasquared/pseuds/maniasquared
Summary: “I can’t stop thinking ‘bout yesterday,” Bucky confesses, slinking closer as if Steve’s his prey.“No? Wait…. I mean, yeah?”Bucky’s grin reminds Steve of the Cheshire cat, like he’s going to be devoured. That doesn’t seem completely unpleasant. Instead of using his words to reply, Bucky cups Steve’s face and brings their mouths together. He’s restraining himself, Steve can tell. To motivate him, Steve drags his teeth along Bucky's bottom lip and he receives a growl in response.Or: Steve and Bucky are in a theatre production together, and instead of doing their jobs, they make out.





	Make a supersonic man out of you

**Author's Note:**

> "I'm traveling at the speed of light, I wanna make a supersonic man out of you, don't stop me now, I'm having such a good time, I'm having a ball"
> 
> Title from "Don't Stop Me Now" by Queen.
> 
> This is un-beta'd.

Steve feels most powerful when dressed in all black with a headset on and a three-ring binder in hand. That’s  _ one _ of the many reasons he loves being head stage manager; during tech and performance nights, he’s in that exact attire. He has more confidence, walking a few inches taller with a look in his eyes that threaten physical harm if he’s crossed even in the slightest. His authority is not to be questioned, especially when there’s only a week and a half until opening. That’s the absolute worst time to do something so utterly stupid. Opposing Steve during this time is the equivalent of digging your own grave; everyone knows that.

Everyone  _ except _ Bucky Barnes.

Apparently, the guy has a death wish because he walks in at 5:03 pm when Steve informed all actors that tech rehearsal started on Monday at 5:10 pm promptly, explicitly saying they needed to be in the audience of the auditorium by 4:45 pm for notes from Bruce, their director.

“ _ Barnes _ !” thunders Steve, briskly approaching him as he removes his leather jacket and drapes it over one of the seats.

He looks up with a relaxed smile. It pisses Steve off how much he wants to kiss that damned grin off his face. Wait... no. Rewind. Try again. It pisses Steve off that he’s late for call. There, that’s it.

“Hey, Rogers, wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?” Bucky licks his lips, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Winking, he says, “Because, y’know, I can help you with that….”

Steve’s entire body hates the insinuation, with the exception of his  _ dick _ . Traitor. Not right now, hormones; seriously, get it together…. Deciding to ignore Bucky’s comment, he seethes, “You’re  _ late _ . We’re about to start and you missed notes and announcements.”

“Traffic’s bad,” supplies Bucky as he sidesteps to get around Steve.

Steve blocks him from going backstage, scowling. “You literally live a block and a half away. You walk to school every day.”

“Is that so?”

Steve lets out an exasperated sigh and attempts to get his breathing under control. Shaking his head, he counters, “Not only are you the lead of this production, but you’re also a senior. You need to set a good example for the underclassmen.”

“If they need a senior to look up to, I’ll send ‘em your way.” Bucky takes a step closer to Steve, leaning down before gently moving him out of the way. Steve’s skin tingles and his lungs momentarily stop. “Later, Rogers.”

Mind reeling, Steve presses the mic on for his headset and tells his stagehands it’s time for places. When he’s done, he files into a seat next to Bruce. It’s light cue day, Steve’s  _ least _ favorite day.

The head of the light board’s voice pipes up in Steve’s ear, “Ready whenever you are, Cap.”

“Okay, bring the house lights to half,” he says, flicking to the beginning of the play in his binder. “Maybe a bit darker…. There. Thanks, Tony.”

“Light cue zero is the blackout before light cue one,” Bruce says to Steve, who relays the information to Tony as he makes note of it in his script. The stage goes dark.

Steve raises his voice for those who are backstage, “Places for Act One, Scene One.”

For each light cue, Steve needs to yell ‘hold’ and mediate the conversation between Tony and Bruce, as well as wait for Tony to program it. It’s a long, boring process but he’s glad they do this day first so it’s over with early in the process. Tomorrow they’ll add sound (which is similar to light day, though not nearly as painstaking), the next day they’ll add costumes, and from there it’s simply working out the kinks before the performances. They don’t need to add props because they’ve been integrated throughout the rehearsal period, thankfully.

It’s been nearly an hour and they’re just finishing up the second scene. Steve thinks he might go insane if this is how long it’ll take for the rest of them. There are four acts and fifteen scenes in total, for God’s sake; they’re never going to make it through the whole play at this rate. Rehearsal ends at 9:30 pm and they still need to squeeze in dinner at some point, which takes about forty-five minutes (even though the time slot is  _ supposed _ to be thirty minutes because actors  _ love _ taking their sweet ass time for absolutely  _ everything _ ). Irritated, Steve calls for scene three and takes a much-needed drink from his water bottle.

Standing under the stage lights, Bucky’s features look sharper, more defined. He holds a hard, unforgiving expression that’s a complete one-eighty from his teasing smile earlier. As the cues get programmed, Steve understands why Bruce chose him to play the lead. He’s an amazing actor, first and foremost; he knows how to demand attention without it being obvious. Even if he’s alone, his personality engulfs the entire stage. But he’s also ruggedly handsome; most people wouldn’t believe that he’s a senior in high school with his long and wavy dark hair, muscular build, and borderline scruffy beard (Steve wishes he could grow a beard). He can see people potentially mistaking Bucky for a junior in college, it wouldn’t be difficult to do. His style and physique are exactly what Bruce envisioned for their production of  _ The Crucible _ (Steve knows this because Bruce actually  _ told him _ ; one perk of being the head stage manager: getting the insider scoop on basically everything). Unfortunately, staring at Bucky while he acts like a short-tempered, adulterating man doesn’t make time go any faster for Steve.

At the end of rehearsal, though, Bruce gives him the okay to give Bucky hell for being late and to get him to be on time tomorrow (“Just not too much, Steve, we don’t want to create an unwelcoming environment”). He’s a little  _ too _ excited to talk to Bucky again but he pushes it off as being happy that he can rip the jerk a new one. It’s definitely  _ not _ because he has a giant crush on the idiot. No way, that’s crazy talk right there. Nope.

“Barnes, we need to talk,” he commands, squaring his shoulders. Whenever he confronts someone, he makes himself look bigger than he actually is. Force of habit. He watches Bucky raise an eyebrow, resting against the doorframe of the boy’s dressing room, probably waiting for his friend, Natasha, to come out of the girl’s dressing room. Steve wonders how she can play Abigail  _ and _ still manage to help out with the costumes (he also wonders how someone can look so effortlessly sexy by just  _ leaning against a fucking wall _ , what the hell). He blinks a few times. Come on, focus….

Before he can begin his lecture, Bucky asks, “You gonna take me up on that offer?”

“What?” Steve demands, bewildered. When it finally clicks, he bristles. “No! I’ve come to tell you that you can’t be late tomorrow, _or_ _any other day_ , because Bruce isn’t happy about it. He said that you need to be respectful of him and the others working on this show, so show up on time. Got it?”

“Yeah, sure,” Bucky complies, smirking. He looks Steve up and down with a nod. “You’re goddamn cute when you get all pissy, y’know that?”

With that, Steve’s dragged into the boy’s dressing room. He lets out a gasp in surprise as he’s pushed against the door, efficiently closing it so no one else can get in. Next thing he knows, Bucky’s lips are on his, gentle but firm and… longing? He’s  _ so _ confused and his brain short circuits. He stands there, shocked and frozen.

Bucky pulls back, still charming yet there’s a hint of nervousness. “You wanna kiss me, right? I see the way you look at me; you want me. That sound right, doll?”

Steve’s eyes are glazed over and he can’t seem to form words, so he nods slowly.

“Good, because _I_ _want_ _you_ , _too_ ,” growls Bucky, connecting them in a heated, needy kiss. Steve kisses back this time, rather fervently, and groans when he feels his bottom lip being nipped at. Bucky breaks the kiss and stares at Steve, who’s flushed and already looks _wrecked_. “Christ, Steve, you’re so fucking hot like this.”

“Y-yeah?”

“Yeah, babydoll.” He starts licking and biting at Steve’s neck, eliciting delicious moans from him. “So damn pretty when you’re pressed up between me ‘n the wall. I’d love to get between your legs sometime.”

“Fuck… yes, please,” Steve begs, throwing his head back and thrusting his hips up in an attempt to find friction. Way to sound fucking desperate, Rogers. Maybe try to have a  _ little _ dignity? Right then, he feels teeth sink into his collar bone. “Oh… my  _ god _ -”

“Bucky?” They both freeze at the sound of Natasha’s voice. In an instant, Bucky steps back. “Are you in the dressing room?”

Steve panics, ducking into the closet around the corner as Bucky stammers, “Uhh—yeah… yeah, Nat, I’m in here. I just forgot something. I’ll be out in a… in a minute. Meet you by your car?”

She sighs and Bucky can practically hear her rolling her eyes. “Sure thing, Barnes. Don’t take too long otherwise you’re gonna have to find someone else to pay for your fro-yo.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Bucky shouts, chuckling. He hears the stage door slam and he yanks Steve out of his hiding spot, brushing their lips together, a sinful promise. Steve’s head spins. “Sorry, babe, I gotta go. I’ll see you tomorrow for rehearsal, though.” He winks. “Maybe we can pick back up where we left off….”

Bucky walks out, leaving Steve absolutely breathless. He groans and his dick throbs at the thought of them doing this again. He mutters to himself, “God help me.”

* * *

 

Sound day: another utterly  _ boring _ rehearsal period. The upside, however, is that there are only eight sound cues in the entire play. And, Steve doesn’t have to be involved with the sound cue set-up unless there’s a serious disaster occurring. So naturally, he makes Peter take his binder to jot down the cues in his script. Steve’s not worried, Peter’s a good kid and he’s pretty experienced for a freshman. He’s worked on shows in some of the city’s local theaters and he gets along well with the head of the soundboard.

“Are… are you sure, Steve?”

“Yes, Pete, I’m sure,” he reassures, giving him a clap on the shoulder. “It’s a simple task and you’re smart and Rhodey will help if you need it; he’s been on the board since… well, since forever. He’s figured out how to explain things and he’s patient, unlike Tony.”

Peter looks hesitant, but he approaches Bruce regardless. Yeah, he’s a good kid alright, just needs a little more self-confidence, that’s all.

Steve spends twenty minutes drifting around the auditorium picking up odd jobs to keep himself preoccupied while the cues are being set. He’s about to check the catwalks when Sam’s voice comes out, sounding uneasy on his headset. That’s never a good sign. “Uhh, Cap?” 

He stops, halfway up the ladder. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

The headset hums, crackles, and then Sam says, “Two things: One, Mary’s poppet and Proctor’s whip are missing from the prop table. Two, the platform that the officials use in the court scenes is in need of some… assistance. I would fix it myself, but I can’t figure out what the hell is wrong? And I’d ask the guy who put the platform together, but seeing as he didn’t do a great job the  _ first _ time….”

“Yeah, yeah, Sam, I get the picture,” Steve sighs, eyeing the catwalks above him.

“We have to be quick; we just finished sound cues. We have five minutes until we start at the top of the show,” explains Sam.

Shit…. “Okay, noted.”

It’s not the end of the world if the props aren’t found by the time they’re needed, it’s not like this is happening on a performance night, but Steve’ll be chewed out by the actors  _ and _ Bruce if they walk out empty handed for a scene. The platform is the real problem, it can’t be used if it’s not safe and that’ll mess up blocking and lighting. Finally, Steve retreats, hopping onto the ground when he’s at a safe height. “Who made the platform, anyway?”

“I think his name’s Flash.”

“What the  _ fuck _ kind of name is ‘Flash?’” he grouches, combing a hand through his hair as he strides towards the auditorium doors. “You know what? Never mind, I don’t want to know. Whoever the hell he is: he’s not allowed to build set anymore.” Steve hasn’t seen how bad (or not bad, that’s doubtful, though) this Flash kid messed up but he doesn’t have the patience to deal with it ever again. He thinks for a second and directs his attention toward his other stagehand, “Pete, you heard all that, right?”

He answers promptly, “Yep.”

“Okay, do you feel comfortable with doing the run through while I fix the platform?”

“I-I don’t know,” Peter stammers.

Sam speaks up, “Cap, I can do the run through and Parker can look for the props.”

Steve agrees, “Sounds good to me. Just make sure one of you tell Bruce what’s happening so he doesn’t, like, freak out.”

The three immediately start on their new assignments. Steve heads backstage on damage control duty, playfully punching Sam on the arm as he passes by, to which he gets a ‘fuckin’ asshole!’ Sam’s not an actor but he  _ loves _ to act like a dramatic little bitch (not that Steve minds too much).

Just off stage left sits the platform and it looks fine from a distance but when Steve does some closer inspection, the thing’s a goddamn monstrosity. The structural integrity is totally compromised, one wrong move and the whole thing comes down. The supporting beams were put on sloppily; they weren’t angled correctly so they aren’t exactly doing their job of supporting the set piece. The casters were put on backward so the thing didn’t move as smoothly as it needs to for the performances. He can do this, no big deal, he’s good with tools. Like, he almost single-handedly built the entire fucking set anyway. Yet someone gave this Flash guy a project that was way above his skill set, which, Steve’ll admit, doesn’t seem to be very high to begin with. Seriously, it’s not that difficult to put casters on in the  _ same direction _ . He takes a deep breath and assesses his options. It’s not  _ hard  _ work, it’s just  _ a lot _ of work.

“Ah, fuck me,” groans Steve, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“I’d love to, doll,” Bucky retorts, suddenly appearing behind Steve. “But I don’t think this is the best place, I’d rather get you somewhere more  _ comfortable _ .”

Steve whips around to make a snarky comment, even if he _did_ want that _very_ _much_ (what, who said that? Not Steve, that’s for sure), but he’s already gone. Grumbling, he treks over to the prop shop. He’s going to be here a while so he might as well get started.

By the end of the first scene, Peter’s found both props. Some idiot shoved them into a crate in a supply closet for “safekeeping” or whatever unjustifiable reason. Steve lets out a breath of air and relaxes a little. One thing down, another to go….

He’s making significant progress when he realizes he needs a different drill bit. His back twinges painfully as he stands; he was hunched over for a ridiculous amount of time. Sam announces to the actors, and tech crew over the headset, to take a ten-minute break before they start the third act. Damn, he’s been working on the platform for  _ that _ long?

He doesn’t notice Bucky slip into the prop shop with him as the door shuts and he nearly screams once he turns around to see him standing there. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! What the  _ hell _ , Barnes? You can’t sneak up on me like that!”

This makes Bucky laugh and it’s intoxicating to listen to, Steve could tuck himself into the sound. The headset is loud with Sam, Tony, Peter, and Rhodey in some sort of banter about Star Trek and Star Wars; Steve yanks it off his ears and leaves it hanging on his neck. He sets down the bit he was holding and places his hands on his hips. He gives Bucky an expectant look as if to say, ‘well?’

“I can’t stop thinking ‘bout yesterday,” Bucky confesses, slinking closer as if Steve’s his prey.

“No? Wait…. I mean, yeah?”

Bucky’s grin reminds Steve of the Cheshire cat, like he’s going to be devoured. That doesn’t seem completely unpleasant. Instead of using his words to reply, Bucky cups Steve’s face and brings their mouths together. He’s restraining himself, Steve can tell. To motivate him, Steve drags his teeth along Bucky's bottom lip and he receives a  _ growl _ in response. His back hits the wall and he’s lifted into the air, his ass and thighs supported by Bucky’s strong hands. Steve mewls; he loves being manhandled (he’d rather go down swinging than admit  _ that _ piece of information). His breathing hitches as Bucky uses his tongue to part the seam in his lips and go deeper. He can feel his dick growing by the second and it’s embarrassing how easily Bucky can turn him on. Honestly, he doesn’t fucking care at this point. He curls his fingers into Bucky’s hair and tugs at it, surprised at the moan that falls past his lips. Steve does it again and draws out the same noise; holy  _ fuck _ , that’s hot.

A faint ‘places!’ sounds through the door and heavy panting. Steve’s heart sinks, he doesn’t want this to stop. And Bucky doesn’t, which perplexes him until he remembers that Proctor doesn’t appear on stage until scene two in this act. That’s the best damn thing he could remember because they’re really going at it now. Steve has one hand in Bucky’s hair while the other slips under his shirt, exploring his muscles. How the fuck is he so  _ ripped _ ?

Steve detaches from him to attack his neck and he whines when Bucky grips harder, easily finding his sweet spot at the hinge of his jaw. Chest heaving, Bucky’s eyes flutter shut and he grunts at a particularly sharp bite. Steve works up towards his ear. He nibbles on the lobe; a surge of confidence flows through him and he whispers, “Why can’t you stop thinking about yesterday, baby?”

He continues his ministrations on Bucky’s throat as he waits for an answer. “It’s—fuck—‘cause you’re so fucking hot, Steve. ‘N your mouth… your mouth does  _ wonders _ ‘n you drive me fucking  _ insane _ all the damn time. I wanna… I wanna….”

He trails off and Steve’s intrigued. He pulls back and their eyes meet. “Hmm...? What was that? What do you want to do?”

Bucky opens his mouth to tell him and he’s interrupted by someone calling his name, “Bucky! Where are you? It’s almost your cue!”

He curses and gently lowers Steve to the ground. He lays on a messy, chaste kiss and bolts out of the prop shop. This leaves Steve alone with a painful erection. He wills it to go away, thinking of every turn off possible so he can get back to fixing the stupid platform. Bucky’s not coming back any time soon; he’s basically on stage at all times for the remainder of the play.

Steve’s finishing the platform as Bucky exits the stage for the one scene he’s not in during the fourth act. The one before the final scene. Steve really wishes he could have gotten the set piece done earlier so the actors could use it, but he couldn’t risk doing a half ass job. He can’t risk people getting hurt so he double- and triple-checked the supports and casters. Everything looks tip top. Someone clears their throat (that someone is Barnes, of course) and Steve glances up. Not at all subtle, Bucky jerks his head in the direction of the prop shop. Steve can’t help but grin, where has this Bucky been the entirety of high school? He was never mean or anything, _God_ _no_ , he was just kind of… withheld around people he didn’t know. He’s the silent, brooding type (if Steve had to put a label on him in like some fucking movie). Bucky tends to keep to himself, that’s all.

Putting away his tools first, Steve wants to make Bucky squirm because he  _ knows _ how impatient he is. He smirks at Bucky’s hiccuped breathing when he bends over to put his drill back on the shelf; his shirt lifts to reveal his pale skin, which causes Bucky’s head to spin as his blood rushes south. Christ…. He’s the epitome of a horny teenage boy, isn’t he? He can’t help it, though, Steve’s so  _ appetizing _ .

They barely get anywhere before Bucky’s needed on stage once again. Steve forgets how short of a scene the second to last one is. Sighing, he steps back, reluctantly letting Bucky go.

* * *

 

It’s Tuesday, two days before opening night, and Steve’s ecstatic. He’s so damn excited; he’s gotten to see the thing start with nothing but read-throughs and now they’ve got the whole shebang. It looks incredible. The set is great (no thanks to  _ Flash _ ), the costumes are breathtaking (Nat and Clint are a godsend), the lights and sounds are fantastic (Tony and Rhodey are pure geniuses), the props are well put together (Coulson’s adorable, he blushed  _ hard _ when Steve complimented him), and of course the actors are phenomenal. Steve doesn’t think he’s been more proud of a production. The process wasn’t a complete nightmare like  _ some _ of the shows he’d done. Oh…. That’s bad…. Don’t think of them, nope. The preparations have been relatively easy, Steve thinks. It definitely helps that he’s gotten to neck on Bucky for the past week, he’s not going to lie.

And that’s exactly where he is right now, tucked into a dark corner, making out with Bucky as he’s dressed in full costume. Nothing says ‘sex’ like Puritan men’s clothing from the late 1600s (please understand the heavy sarcasm Steve’s laying on here)….

When he saw Bucky in it for the first time, he laughed so hard he started crying. He didn’t know what was funnier, the breeches or the ruff. But as soon as Bucky pinned him against the wall and bit down on his neck, Steve was a whimpering mess.

Since he’s the head stage manager of the production and Bucky’s the lead, they should _definitely_ _not_ be making out backstage in between Bucky’s scenes but he guesses that’s just what’s happening now. It’s what’s been happening for a week straight and he’s not mad about it in the slightest. The best thing, though? No one’s suspicious of a single thing.

Bucky shifts, his thigh pressing in between Steve’s barely spread legs. It’s only meant for him to have a better standing position, however, Steve’s  _ hard _ and  _ needy _ , of course, he begins riding Bucky’s thigh as if his life depends on it. Fucking hell, what a wonderful sensation. He stifles back moans and it gets Bucky all hot under the collar. His big, poofy, dumb collar.

For some unforeseeable reason, he draws back and Steve whines in response. Bucky shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “You wanna come over Friday night?”

A beat. Then, “I hope you mean  _ after _ the performance.”

“No, I’m askin’ you to bail—fucking of course I mean after the performance, you punk,” grouses Bucky. Sometimes Steve can be dumb. Pretty dumb. Pretty  _ and _ dumb. Not that he’d ever tell him those things, though.

Bucky’s response makes Steve laugh. Nodding, he says, “Yeah, that sounds like fun.”

It’ll be great to finally be able to do more than just make out with him, if that’s what he wants to do, obviously. And from the way he’s been talking dirty to Steve, that seems highly likely to happen.

“Great, we can order pizza ‘n watch Brooklyn Nine-Nine. Or if you’re not in the mood for that then we could get Thai ‘n play video games. M’down for whatever, honestly.”

“Wait,” Steve stutters, looking bewildered. He’s acutely aware of the fact that his erection is still pressing down on Bucky’s thigh. “Are you… are you asking me out?”

Bucky cocks his head to the side, confused. “Uhh… yeah? What’d ya think I was doing?”

“Having me over so you could fuck me senseless?”

“ _ Oh _ …. Well, yeah, we’re  _ definitely _ doing that, too. I thought maybe we’d go on a date first. Christ, Stevie, how much of a sleaze d’you think I am?”

Neither can keep a straight face, both trying to contain their giggles. They're supposed to be quiet; they’re backstage and they’re in the middle of a run-through. Steve totally forgot about that detail, wow. They untangle their limbs and stand apart, stealing glances at each other. After he manages to get his laughter under control, he replies, “I don’t think you’re a sleaze, Buck.” He bites his lip and looks at the ground, suddenly self-conscious. “I didn’t think you were interested in me, that’s all.”

“How could I not be interested?” Bucky slots their lips together in a slow, gentle way, a kiss much different than any of the others they’ve shared before. That’s all the confirmation Steve needs.

Blushing, he pushes Bucky lightly. “Shut up, you have a play to act in.”

“And you have a play to stage manage,” Bucky quips back, grinning.

They remove themselves from their corner and start walking towards the stage. Bucky heads off to wait for his cue. Steve takes the headset from his neck, adjusts it over his ears and it feels like home; Sam and Tony talk about light settings in a rushed tone. Then, as if it’s just on time, Tony inquires, “Hey, Cap, are you still on stage left?”

Pausing where the wooden stage meets the concrete backstage flooring and looking at the empty audience, Steve turns on his mic. “Yeah, what’s up?”

“Can you go to the box and flip the main switch? The board disconnected and I need the system to reboot in order to get control up in the booth again.”

He turns on his heel as he speaks, “Sure thing.” Just then, Bucky appears out of nowhere and firmly squeezes his butt. He squeals, “Bucky! Save the ass grabbing for Friday night, please and thanks.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything, sauntering off with an amused smirk.

“ _ Ew _ . Steve, next time you’re talking about fucking your boy toy,  _ please _ turn off your mic first,” Sam teases, only sounding mildly grossed out but mostly like he’s suppressing his laughter. Oh fuck.

Steve’s face heats up. “He’s  _ not _ my boy toy.”

“Whatever you say, man.”


End file.
